


Don’t you want me (baby)

by nottimagiche



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:07:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28172169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nottimagiche/pseuds/nottimagiche
Summary: Some Deledier discussion on Dele's current predicament. Set somewhere in December 2020.
Relationships: Dele Alli/Eric Dier
Comments: 11
Kudos: 57
Collections: Deledier Fic Exchange 2020





	Don’t you want me (baby)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [depressotron5000](https://archiveofourown.org/users/depressotron5000/gifts).



> Some Deledier discussion on Dele's current predicament. Set somewhere in December 2020.

_how many hours to get up_

_come on sleep already_

_wonder how many calories in a bounty why would anyone waste their calories on that abomination_

_maybe I should see that psychologist sally mentioned it couldn’t hurt could it_

_eric’s birthday present better arrive on time_

_maybe paris wouldn’t be so bad_

Dele faced another sleepless night next to Eric, random thoughts popping up in his head as he stared at the slivers of light across the ceiling. He tried to will himself to sleep, his body needed it, but with his mind racing, there was no chance.

He looked at the sleeping form next to him. He was thrilled for Eric, all his skill finally realised, how happy the man was with his form, the results (mostly), the responsibility. It was well deserved, _well deserved my love_.

Not so much for him though.

There was no way he was leaving, he would stay and fight and score and show them all, there was no way they would sell him, sell his life to another city, another club, away from everything. He just had to show the gaffer, show Levy they couldn’t cash him in.

Dele didn’t need more money. He didn’t need a new club where he had to learn the ropes, get to know everyone, he could still show his mettle here. There wasn’t a day he didn’t love going to work, they couldn’t take that away from him. He loved his life and everyone in it, no chance they would destroy that.

Dele brought his hand close to Eric’s shoulder, to feel the warmth of the bare skin radiate against his palm. He felt bad about tossing and turning most nights but thankfully Eric had those fancy mattresses that allowed you to move without the other person feeling it. Eric was playing tomorrow, he needed his sleep. Dele wasn’t playing tomorrow so no one gave a fuck.

 _Not true_ , he scolded himself.

Eric always gave a fuck, he gave a damn, he gave everything. _My love,_ Dele thought as he looked at the resting face of his lover. He loved to trace the stubble, the jawline, the crooked nose, before resting his hand on Eric’s cheek and lean in to kiss him. He loved it when Eric read in bed, sometimes short sections aloud, it felt so goddamn domestic he could hardly stand it and he loved it desperately. Sometimes Dele would toss and turn more than usually, and Eric would stir and Dele would lull him back to sleep with a comforting kiss; Eric didn’t need to know everything, not how much Dele lay awake every night.

Sometimes Eric would awake to use the bathroom and seeing Dele awake he would offer sex, “it always makes you sleepy, love, helps you relax”, but Dele didn’t want to cheapen their connection, not have passion play a sedative. Plus there was never sex before a match day, rule number one.

Rule number two was never bitch and moan in public, about lack of minutes, or being benched or not being even in the squad, about injuries or feeling hard done by. For five minutes Dele had entertained the thought of Paris when he first heard the rumours. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, Serge could teach him some French, he wouldn’t mind playing with Mbappé and Neymar and he could get back home quickly every week, Eric would wait.

Would he wait?

He would. He would pull Dele up from the depths of murky water, lift him up with words of comfort, by acting normal, like it was business as usual, like it was 2016, with no cares in the world.

Dele sighed and carefully got up from the bed to use the bathroom. He rinsed his face and drank from the tap before fixing his eyes on his face in the mirror. When did it get so difficult?

Why couldn’t people just think happy thoughts, feel positive, feel upbeat, and none of this anxiety, depression, doubt, and insecurity bullshit? If all this came with being 24, he would’ve given anything to stay 21, young player of the year, all that jazz. Now it’s no GK, no Kyle, no Sess, probably no Winksy soon. All he has are Eric and Sonny, and Reggy seems to like him but how to get the gaffer to like him?

“Don’t. you. want. me. ba-by.” Dele spoke quietly towards the mirror.

“Don’t you want me, ooo oo oo oh.”

Dele snorted at his reflection and put his hands to his face while shaking his head. “Oh my God”, he mumbled, “you’re a right idiot.”

“Nobody calls my babe an idiot”, came a voice behind him and Dele turned to see Eric leaning against the doorframe.

“Except you”, Dele smiled.

“Except me”, Eric echoed. “What are you doing?” he asked, heading towards the toilet.

“Nothing”, Dele replied, his back to the sink. “Had to pee.”

“And you can’t sleep again”, Eric tilted his head towards Dele while relieving himself.

Dele didn’t bother to lie so he said nothing.

“You know you should go see someone, talk about it, like Sally’s told you”, Eric said as he came to the sink.

“I’ve got you to talk to”, Dele tried.

“Except you don’t talk to me about this”, Eric said, gesturing towards the younger man. “It’s not healthy staying up all the time.”

“I take a nap”, he replied and to be fair, he did love a nap, preferably next to a napping Dier.

“Not the same, Del, and you know it.”

“Yes, Dr Dier, can we go back to bed now please, you’ve got a match tomorrow.”

“Hey”, Eric took hold of Dele’s arm as he tried to escape the bathroom. “You also have a match tomorrow.” Eric held Dele’s gaze.

“You know it’s not the same, E”, Dele offered, half-jokingly, half serious, causing Eric to tighten his grip.

“Tell me you know you have a match day tomorrow, Del, it’s important you know this. How can we win anything this season if we’re not all in this together.”

“Stop it with the gaffer’s psychobabble, Eric”, Dele yanked his arm away. “It’s either too late or too early for that and I’m going back to bed.”

“To do what?” Eric raised his voice. He didn’t want to do this. “To toss and turn and sigh and look at your phone and feel sorry for yourself, I’m tired of it–“

“–I’M TIRED OF IT!” Dele shouted, “you think I’m not tired of it, huh?” Dele’s voice cracked a little. “I don’t need you to tell me what I know.” Dele exited the bathroom.

“Del–“

“And I don’t need you to slag me off in the middle of the night, I would like some support please”, Dele huffed as he stomped back to the bedroom, threw himself under the covers and turned as far from Eric’s side of the bed as he could. “Or am I supposed to be as tough as you, take it all on the chin, mr big man, gaffer’s favourite, for fuck’s sake…” he continued his mumbling tirade.

Eric returned to the bedroom slowly. This was nothing new, nothing he hadn’t seen before, the huff and puff of his lover. It was good Dele let it out every so often, Eric didn’t particularly like the flare ups but he was used to them.

“Tell me you understand it’s matchday also for you tomorrow”, he insisted, incensed by Dele’s earlier claim. “It’s not just me who needs to sleep.” Eric stood at the foot of the bed, staring down at the covers.

Dele flung the duvet away from his head. “Ah, so I need to be in top physical and psychological condition tomorrow, watching the match from my house?”

“The squad’s not out yet, you could be playing.”

“Bullshit.”

"Well, that’s the spirit, Del”, Eric grew angrier. “Let’s make this season all about you, eh?”

Dele sat up on the bed in a huff. “No, it seems to be all about you.”

Eric let a small snort of disbelief and crossed his arms across his chest. He always needed a moment to stop himself from reacting, saying the wrong thing, rising to Dele’s bait. He stared at the younger man in front of him whose eyes showed him backpedalling furiously, knowing he’d said the wrong thing.

“Why are you saying these things, Del? I know you don’t feel that way, I know you’re happy I’m playing well for a change, I know it.”

Dele averted his eyes. “Yep”, he let out.

“God, why is every day at some point such a battle with you?” Eric continued, “it’s like a psych ward with you.”

“Don’t mock me”, Dele said quietly.

Eric looked at Dele’s sad face and moved to sit down on the bed.

“But why do you always get to be the emotional one, why are we always listening to how you feel and how bad you’re feeling and how everything’s fucked since you’re not playing, it can’t be all about you all the time.”

Dele looked at Eric in silence.

“Yes, you’re having a bad time but would it kill you to ask me how I’m doing, eh? It’s a two-way street this, Del, you have to support me too, you have to ask me how I’m doing, eh?”

Dele shifted slightly on the bed. “But you always look like you’re doing well”, he offered. “With the app and all your interviews, happy Dier all the time, I thought it was my time to be miserable.”

Eric moved without a word and before Dele realised, the covers had been flung to one side and Dier was laying flat on top of him. Nothing sexual about it, no anger, no force, just the weight of his body on Dele’s.

“What are you doing?” Dele asked, Eric’s face inches from his own. “You’re crushing me.”

“I’m not”, Eric replied, “I haven't so far.”

Dele looked at Eric’s face. He did love Eric’s weight on himself, the gentle pressure that squeezed his insides into place, the tightness in his chest always relaxing under the contact. It usually very quickly led to some more intense contact, which is why this didn’t match the mood.

“I’m not kissing you if we’re fighting”, Dele said, turning his head away for emphasis.

“Did I ask for a kiss?” Eric replied. “I just want to talk.”

Dele returned his gaze, still puzzled.

“For you, this is always sex, right”, Eric spoke, “but I want you to be able to talk like this also, everything that’s on my mind, on yours; this kind of contact can’t be just about sex or we’re fucked.”

“What is this–“

“Listen”, Eric insisted, “just calm down and listen to me.” Dele shifted a little underneath him and Eric brought his hand to Dele’s face, soothing the furrowed brow.

“I wish I didn’t have to pin you down to tell you how I feel but it’s fucking rude you don’t ask me”, Eric said, and he could feel Dele’s chest rise. “I worry about getting injured every single day, the way they keep taping up my hammy makes me petrified that it will pop in any training or any match and that’s it for me for the season, yeah?” Eric looked at Dele. “Did you know this?”

The younger man shook his head.

“No, because you haven’t asked me.” Eric could feel Dele’s breathing quicken slightly.

“And I worry about a concussion, like Jan, and I miss Jan and it’s like half your life yanked away from you and do you ask me about that, eh?” Eric didn’t wait for an answer. “No offense, love, I love being with you but Jan was something else and I miss seeing him and talking and arguing and him coming over and no, talking on the phone is not the same, just like with you and Kyle, right?”

Dele nodded. “I know you miss him”, he offered. He was never jealous because how could you be of brothers, two people sharing a mind, he could never compete with that.

“He’s my brother”, Eric continued, “he’s like half of me, his busted brain is half mine, you know?” Eric sighed. “Didn’t really realise until he left, you know?”

“Yeah”, Dele replied. He still wasn’t jealous, he had no right. Dele brought his hand to touch Eric’s back.

“Am I crushing you?” Eric asked and lifted his body slightly off Dele’s.

“No, stay”, Dele pressed Eric’s back to return the weight on him.

Eric ran his hand over Dele’s forehead and slowly leaned in to kiss his cheek. Just a soft touch of warm lips on darker skin but enough to reveal the world.

“I don’t want to be transferred”, Dele let out and Eric raised his head to look at his lover, hands cupping Dele’s face.

“You won’t be, I won’t let it.”

“I still don’t know why the gaffer doesn’t want me, am I not tough enough, do I need to be some bruiser to tackle and do everything on the pitch, I’m working on my defending, you can see that, right?”

Eric nodded.

“And if I get transferred, maybe you won’t want me anymore, with your new role and the fucking app and you’ll find some businessperson to be with, don’t shake your head at me, I’m allowed to be irrational, you should know this by now”, Dele broke into a small smile, and raised his head to reach Eric’s lips.

A touch, a taste, nothing like it.

Eric smiled into Dele’s kiss. “You know, you’re much better at imagining things than I am”, he spoke against Dele’s lips and Dele lowered his head back on the pillow. “You’ve managed to imagine a scenario where I don’t want you”, Eric spoke, and placed another kiss on Dele’s cheek, and on the other, and to his brow, and to the other. He could feel Dele’s chest drop as the man relaxed underneath him. “And it’s a good thing I’m not jealous of every business venture you’re into, can you imagine if I worried about all the people you meet in your photoshoots or interviews or that gaming nonsense–“

“Hey–“

“–but it’s a good thing I’m not that guy, right?” Eric smiled and lowered his mouth on Dele’s to preemptively shut him up, to remind him not much else mattered than this, this contact, this feeling, sharing your life with someone so fully you could handle the crazy, the not asking, the sleepless nights and the nonsense. There was no chance he would ever stop wanting this.

“We need to sleep”, Dele offered after a moment, his lips red from the friction.

“Can I help you fall asleep?” Eric asked, pressing his groin against Dele’s.

“Rule number one, babe”, Dele replied and gently pushed Eric off to the bed.

“Mm”, Eric sounded in agreement and adjusted the duvet to cover their bodies. “I bet you’re playing tomorrow”, he said. “Dier assist, Dele flick over the keeper, sound good to you?”

_pull me up, love, from the murky waters, like you always do  
_

Dele smiled. “Sounds like a plan.”

_\- Fin -_


End file.
